


Weak Spot

by tacos4two



Series: Tutelage [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon Era, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hugs, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Protective Arthur, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacos4two/pseuds/tacos4two
Summary: Prince Arthur and Merlin stop at a dubious tavern while on a journey, oblivious to the fact that there is a large bounty on Arthur's head. While they are relaxing, a group of heinous bandits discovers that Merlin is Arthur's weak spot.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Tutelage [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587784
Comments: 32
Kudos: 847





	Weak Spot

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags! There is non-consensual kissing and touching done to Merlin, but no actual non-con. I'm sorry, I like torturing my favorite characters. I hope the comfort makes up for the hurt. Enjoy!

Arthur’s eyes lazily followed Merlin’s finger as he pointed to a tattered map on the tavern table. The pair had been traveling by foot since daybreak. They were on yet another quest, undercover as two peasants. Finally, they had arrived at a run-down tavern, much to Merlin’s chagrin. He claimed to be having one of his "bad feelings" again. Loud, deep voices emanated from it, and there appeared to be dagger marks coating the rotting wood. Arthur simply ruffled Merlin's hair and headed into the shack, throwing a snide remark over his shoulder ("you know best that you shouldn't judge by appearance, Merlin!"). Quite frankly, his feet were aching, and his throat was parched. He simply wanted to relax.

Merlin continued prattling on, focused on the map, loud enough to be heard over the ruckus surrounding them. Arthur found that he was only half-listening. His tired feet rested on the bench across the table, next to his servant. He should be paying attention, considering he was rather unfamiliar with this part of the land, but Merlin’s face was much more interesting at the moment. He watched his eyelashes fluttering while he looked downwards, his eyebrows shifting expressively as he spoke, the slight lick of his lips after he paused…

Suddenly, Arthur froze. The hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he sat up straight, planting his feet back on the ground. He knew this feeling like an old friend: they were being watched. He and Merlin had ensured they were not wearing any identifying clothing. Regardless, they needed to leave immediately. There were too many ruffians here for them to succeed in a fight, certainly with Merlin unarmed. He did not dare to look anywhere but at Merlin in order to feign ignorance of their audience.

Unsurprisingly unaware of the rising danger, Merlin continued, “...but if we take this path, it will be a bit longer, possibly half a day’s worth, but there’s a lesser chance of bandits and—”

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupted, his voice deadly serious. Merlin instantly understood that tone, his eyes meeting Arthur’s.

“Yes, sire?” Merlin responded instinctively.

Arthur nearly hit him over the head. He could only hope that no one else had heard that.

“Let’s get some sleep,” he muttered through a smile with clenched teeth. Merlin nodded, his eyebrows crinkled in confused concern. As soon as Arthur stood up, strong hands were on his shoulders, shoving him back down. The tavern went silent.

“Going somewhere, _sire_?” a gruff voice grunted behind him, mocking his servant. Without missing a beat, his hand flew to his waist, gripping the hilt of his sword. At the same moment, something hard smashed into the side of his head, blurring his vision. Arthur lost his grip on his sword, falling limply into the clutches of the strong body behind him. A warm wetness dripped down the side of his face.

“Arthur!” Merlin shouted, jumping to his feet. But hands were already on him, dragging him backwards off the bench. Merlin looked around frantically, and all of the other tavern goers had fled. All except the men holding him and Arthur. 

The menacing voice spoke again, “did you really think you wouldn’t be recognized, Arthur Pendragon? Everyone here knows about the hefty bounty on your head. And your little friend here just confirmed our suspicions.” The man, presumably the leader of this miserable group, flashed a crooked, yellow smile at Merlin. “Many thanks.”

Merlin grimaced and grunted as he struggled against the hands restraining him, silently cursing himself for his slip-up. He was supposed to protect Arthur, not endanger him. His gaze was fixed on Arthur, checking him over. He was still conscious, but bleeding profusely from where the brute hit him with a mug. Another bandit had retrieved Arthur’s sword, leaving him truly defenseless. “Arthur!” he tried again, and Arthur’s dazed stare shifted to Merlin. He had to get them out of this.

Magic was not an option. Arthur couldn’t find out. Not like this. Merlin thrust his elbow backwards with as much force as he could manage. There was a pained grunt, then he kicked backwards, aiming for the knees, copying a move he had learned while observing Arthur’s training sessions. The man on his left collapsed, and Merlin was briefly surprised that he was actually getting somewhere. However, his efforts were rewarded with a punch to the gut, forcing his breath out of him. He doubled over, coughing, and tried to force down the bile that arose in his throat. A sudden prick under his chin forced him to lift his head, and he found himself looking down the blade of Arthur’s sword.

Arthur’s vision was not entirely clear yet, but seeing a sword held at Merlin’s neck quickly brought him to his senses. His heart began pounding harder in his chest. “Let him go,” he demanded with a tone worthy of a king, “you have no quarrel with him.”

“Perhaps. But it seems you… care for this boy,” the leader noted, keeping the sword trained on Merlin. “What is he to you, exactly?”

Arthur swallowed hard, watching a drop of blood leave a trail from the tip of his sword down Merlin’s neck. “He is simply a,” his voice cracked, “simply a servant.”

“I see. And do you look at all of your servants like you do him?”

Arthur blinked. “...What?” was all he could manage.

“Don’t play stupid. We’ve been keeping an eye on you since you stepped foot in here,” the man jeered. “I see straight through your brave facade, Pendragon. It’s apparent you have a weak spot for this boy.”

Arthur was silent, his jaw locked. He could deny it, but that wouldn’t alter what they had seen. His speechlessness caused the leader to let out a dark chuckle. Merlin’s cheeks were flushed, whether it was from his prior struggle or embarrassment, he didn’t know.

It was Merlin who broke the silence. “What is it that you want?” he asked, slightly breathless yet resolute.

The leader gave another bone-chilling grin. “I’m glad you asked.” He locked eyes with Arthur and spoke slowly, “we want you, Arthur Pendragon,” moving the sword lower, he began slicing Merlin’s tunic in two, “to suffer greatly before we take your life.”

Merlin involuntarily let out a small gasp as cold air spread over his chest. He unthinkingly tried to cover himself, but his arms were held fast behind his back. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Arthur demanded. He was scared. He was terrified. More so than he had ever been in his life. Were they going to torture Merlin? Kill him? Right in front of him, while he could do nothing but watch? All because he couldn’t keep his feelings to himself?

Ignoring him, the leader closed in on Merlin and gripped his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at him. Running his thumb over Merlin’s bottom lip, he muttered, “you have a pretty face, boy.” His hand traveled down Merlin’s neck, then chest…

The intent behind his words finally caught up to both Arthur and Merlin.

“Stop this!” Arthur hissed, his glare icy, and Merlin began thrashing again. Arthur repeatedly yanked against his captors, desperately trying to reach Merlin, but to no avail. These men were stronger than he and Merlin combined. He made a mental note to train even harder if they get out of this. _When_ they get out of this. Alive and unharmed.

Merlin was panting with exertion, and Arthur despised how vulnerable he looked. What kind of knight of Camelot cannot even manage to protect his own friend? If he had just listened to Merlin, they wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. And now Merlin was suffering due to his selfishness. Just then, Arthur’s mind went blank as the leader took advantage of Merlin’s agape mouth, sloppily seizing it with his own.

Nausea bubbled up within Arthur. What was wrong with these people? “You sick bastard! Get away from him!” He renewed his efforts to escape, causing the men behind him to twist his arms more harshly behind his back. "Now!"

Tasting liquor, Merlin felt ill. He bit down on the tongue invading his mouth, hard. The man yelped and pulled back hastily, rage apparent in his eyes. Merlin glared back at him and spit out some of the man's blood.

A rush a pride ran through Arthur. _That’s my Merlin,_ he thought. However, his satisfaction was soon replaced with panic as the leader raised a clenched fist and slammed it into Merlin’s cheekbone, obviously not holding back. Merlin’s face contorted in pain. The man jerked his head and commanded, “do it.”

_Crack._ Merlin was slammed face-first onto the table with no mercy. His captors were still restraining his arms, keeping him bent over the edge. “Bind him, too.” Without hesitation, a brute yanked off Merlin’s neckerchief and secured it around his wrists, cutting off the circulation. Merlin groaned and raised his head slightly, revealing to Arthur that blood was now streaming from his nose. It was probably broken. His eyes were also wet with pained tears.

“Oh, come on! You are all cowards! Abusing a man who cannot fight back, it’s beyond pathetic,” Arthur chided, huffing with outrage. “Merlin…” Arthur started, intending to sound calm and confident, but instead sounding exactly how he felt: anxious and afraid.

Merlin looked at him with misty eyes. “I’m okay.” Blood dripped from his nose on to the map below. “And you, sire? You took quite a blow to the head. Not that you have anything up there to be damaged.” Merlin gave Arthur one of those smiles that lights up his entire world.

How could Merlin be making jests? More importantly, “how can you seriously be worried about _me_ right now?” Arthur pondered aloud, bewildered.

Merlin began, “I’m always—”

“Aw, you two are just breaking my heart,” the leader ridiculed, threading his fingers through Merlin’s hair, “but let's get to the good part, shall we?” He yanked, and Merlin bit back a yelp. “Tell me, Pendragon,” he continued as he watched a tear spill down Merlin’s face, “how far have you gone with your _manservant_?” Suddenly, hands were on Merlin, pushing his shirt up his back, nails dragging down his sides, causing him to squirm and pull against his bonds. “Not that it matters: either we’ll take him before you, or take him from you.”

“Don’t,” Arthur snarled, dangerously low. “Don’t touch him, or I promise I will end every single one of you.”

A bandit ground his pelvis against Merlin’s backside, and Merlin frantically tried to put distance between them. But the only way of escape was backwards, resulting in pressing against the man further. The man leaned over him and whispered something in his ear. Merlin stilled.

_Stop struggling, or do you want your dear prince to take your place?_ the man had breathed to Merlin. Magic. He could use magic and end this right now. It wasn’t fair. He wanted to reveal the truth Arthur when he was ready. When they both were ready. Not because some vile monsters forced him to. But Arthur was still breathing, and his life wasn’t in immediate danger. Not yet. He didn’t need to use magic to save himself from… this. Arthur was okay. He would find another way.

A hushed voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Please,” Arthur begged, swallowing his dignity. Merlin locked eyes with him. “Please, don’t hurt him any more. He has nothing to do with this. Why won’t you just kill me already?”

“Arthur—” Merlin tried, but the man looming over him clasped a grimy hand over his mouth. He gave Arthur a smirk.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Where’s the fun in that?” he chuckled, and pulled down Merlin’s breeches.

Arthur saw red. “ _No!_ Get your filthy hands _off of him!_ I will kill all of you! Do you hear me!?” He didn’t recognize his own voice. He was fighting with more vigor than he ever had, more than when his own life was on the line. “ _Merlin!”_ With a well-placed kick to the groin and a bit of luck, one of the men holding him toppled over, and his left arm was freed. Reacting quickly, the leader pointed Arthur’s sword at him. Arthur gripped the blade of the weapon, unconcerned as it sliced through the skin of his palm. He tugged it out of the leader’s grip, flipped it around effortlessly, and shoved it through the leader’s heart. Twirling around, he easily cut down the men surrounding him. Arthur vaulted over the table, and slit the throat of the brute terrorizing Merlin. He finished off the final horrified man in under a second. Panting, he dropped the sword with a clatter and rushed to Merlin’s side.

He made quick work of the neckerchief binding Merlin’s wrists, cringing at the bright red marks it left behind, and helped him to his feet. Merlin hurriedly readjusted his breeches. “Merlin, you’re all right?” he pleaded more so than asked, cradling Merlin’s face with his hands. The blood from his left hand smeared on his face. Merlin’s nose had begun to bruise, mirroring the dark purple swelling on his cheek, and Arthur wished he could kill those men a second time.

Merlin nodded. “I’m okay.” He seemed like he was trying to convince himself. All of the sudden, a gurgling sound erupted to his left. It was coming from the man who had attempted to assault him. Merlin scrambled for Arthur’s sword, and plunged it into the man’s chest. And then he did it again. And once more for good measure.

A warm, gentle hand rested on his shoulder. “He’s dead,” Arthur reassured. Merlin nodded again, staring down at the bloodied body. “Let’s get out of here.” Merlin grabbed his neckerchief, while Arthur pulled his sword out of the corpse and retrieved the map, wet with Merlin’s blood and tears. They headed out into the cool night air. The pair took in a breath for what seemed like the first time in hours.

Sheathing his sword, Arthur headed towards the woods, but a light tug on his left arm halted him.

“Your hand, sire,” Merlin explained softly. He turned Arthur’s palm upwards, and blood was still dripping from the deep wound. “We need to stop the bleeding.” Arthur wouldn’t admit it, but it did sting like a thousand venomous snake bites. Then, Merlin lifted a section of Arthur’s hair, and Arthur winced. “Your head wound has stopped bleeding, thankfully. I’ll do what I can, but we should have Gaius inspect it when we return.” Before Arthur could say anything, Merlin was carefully wrapping his neckerchief around his hand. Merlin fumbled with it, and Arthur nearly poked fun at him, until he noticed the reason: Merlin’s hands were shaking.

Arthur gingerly placed his free hand over Merlin’s quivering ones. He looked deeply at Merlin. “It’s all right. You’re safe. We’re safe.” He gave Merlin a genuine, tender smile, and that was all it took. Tears welled up in Merlin’s eyes and spilled over like waterfalls. A sob escaped his throat, and Arthur’s heart shattered. Arthur pulled him into a tight embrace, feeling hot tears splash onto his neck. Merlin’s knees gave out, and Arthur slowly lowered them into a sitting position. Rubbing circles on Merlin’s back and rocking him gently, Arthur repeatedly muttered “it’s okay” like a mantra. He fought back his own tears, but quickly lost that battle.

After a few minutes, Merlin’s sobs had been reduced to sniffles and hiccups. Arthur was stroking the short hair at the nape of his neck. Clearing his throat, Arthur whispered, “I’m sorry, Merlin. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

Merlin eventually pulled back. “That’s supposed to be my job, you know,” he tried in his most jovial voice, but it still came out sounding congested and scratchy.

“That’s very reassuring, thank you, Merlin,” Arthur quipped, relieved Merlin was feeling slightly better. He marveled at his courage. Merlin’s eyes were puffy and red, and Arthur softly wiped the tear stains off of his cheeks. “Come on, let’s find a place to rest. We leave for Camelot at… whenever we wake up.” He helped Merlin to his feet.

Merlin looked bewildered. “Wait, Camelot? What about the quest?”

“Forget the quest. We’re going home.”

Merlin didn’t argue for once.

⁂

They found a spot in the woods, far from the tavern and hidden from plain sight. They were resting side-by-side for warmth, staring up at the brightly-freckled sky. Rather, Merlin was. Arthur was looking at Merlin. He desired so strongly to wrap his arm around him.

“What if…” Merlin suddenly started, and Arthur jumped slightly. “What if I had a way to escape back there, but I didn’t even try it?”

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. “...What are you on about? You did try." Merlin appeared troubled, and Arthur's heart ached. "Very bravely, might I add. Those men were twice your size. Even if you had managed to escape, you were unarmed. They would have killed you. Most of all, you cannot blame yourself for their actions,” he reasoned. Merlin turned to face him.

“Arthur… thank you. For everything.” His eyes twinkled. “Even though I’m just your servant, you—”

“Don’t you say that,” Arthur insisted, “you’re much more than a servant, Merlin.” He paused, biting his lip. His heart was thrumming. “And you’re much more than a friend to me.” The corners of Merlin’s lips tugged upwards. But he wanted Merlin to truly understand what he meant. Moving even closer, he stroked his hand against Merlin’s cheek, his breath ghosting over his face. Merlin was searching Arthur's eyes, and gripped the hand on his cheek. Arthur whispered, “may I—”

Lips crashed into Arthur’s, gentle and eager at the same time. His eyes widened. This was really happening, Merlin was kissing him! It was just as lovely and delightful and warm and exciting as he had imagined. He closed his eyes and deepened the kiss, intertwining his fingers with Merlin’s. Arthur shifted his body on top of Merlin, and they broke apart to catch their breath. Both of their lips were tingling, and they couldn't resist the grins that spread across their faces. A second later, Arthur dipped his head down to kiss him again.

“Ow!” Merlin pushed Arthur’s head to the side, and clasped his hand over his own face. “You bumped my nose, you dollophead.”

“I’m sooo sorry,” Arthur said sarcastically, “want me to kiss it to make it feel better?” 

Merlin squeaked “no!” but Arthur was already on him, pecking his lips all over his face while avoiding his injuries, and reduced them both to giggles. Once he stopped, he gave Merlin a genuine kiss, making sure to tilt his head further this time. His tongue brushed past Merlin’s lips, and Merlin made a quiet sound of pleasure.

Arthur stopped, a pained look on his face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the first one to do this,” he muttered.

Merlin shook his head. “Believe me, that bastard wasn’t the first one either.”

Arthur blinked. “Wow.”

“But you can be the first to do... something else,” Merlin suggested, a smile tugging at his wet, swollen lips. Arthur caught on to the implication immediately, flashing a devilish grin. He’d waited far too long for this. He began peppering kisses down Merlin’s neck, and snuck his hands under his tunic.

“Whoa, boy,” Merlin grabbed Arthur’s wrists. “Not in the middle of the forest. Why don't we wait until we get back home?”

Arthur pouted. “Did you just speak to your prince like he's a horse?”

“I would never do such a thing, _my lord_ ,” Merlin snorted, and Arthur shook his head, grinning.

”All right. We leave at dawn, then.” He crawled off of Merlin and flopped back down.

“What happened to leaving whenever we wake up?” Merlin grumbled exaggeratedly.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to have you, Merlin?”

Merlin thought for a moment. “...Not really?”

“Well, you’ll find out soon enough.” Arthur winked, and Merlin felt his cheeks heat up.

Merlin snuggled into Arthur’s chest, and Arthur wrapped an arm around him, planting a kiss on his forehead. Merlin had never felt more safe and loved. They drifted off to sleep together, content at last.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Would you like a part two? (;


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